


Worn and haggard, weathered and torn

by nocureforcrazy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, F/M, and bellamy is shocked, and octavia all but forces clarke to read it, in which clarke griffin has never read harry potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-15 00:09:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11219124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocureforcrazy/pseuds/nocureforcrazy
Summary: "For a few weeks, I wasn't alone, I didn't feel broken, lost or confused. I was preoccupied and wasn't drowning in grief and that's because of you. You gave me an outlet."





	Worn and haggard, weathered and torn

**Author's Note:**

> title is from making me look good again by drake white

 

Bellamy barely glances up as the bell chimes, alerting him to the fact that a patron has entered. He doesn’t need to look up to know who it is – or who he _hopes_ it is anyway. Of course, he turns out to be right. She always comes in his quaint little bookshop occasionally for a new book or two – well when he gets new releases – which usually isn’t until a few weeks later.

Sometimes, she just comes in to browse.

And a few times, he’s even found her studying.

A part of him wonders why she chooses his little shop when there’s a Barnes and Noble a few streets away on sixth and Broadway. But really, he _shouldn’t_ complain. Business is business after all. Even still, he can’t fathom how a person could wait a extra week or two to get a new released book; when they could easily go to Barnes and Noble or even Target to get it the day it comes out.

Especially if it’s one of those highly anticipated novels.

He also can’t help but wonder what a girl like her is doing in a bookshop like this. The small building that seems out of place between two tall skyscrapers. Almost like a toy or a dollhouse in the midst of the tall, almost glass like buildings.

Of course when it was first opened, the skyscrapers weren’t there – but that was ages before Octavia was born, before Bellamy was even born.

It was his mother’s shop before she passed away five years ago and fuck, if he couldn’t bring himself to sell it. It felt like he was getting rid of a part of his mother and he couldn’t part with it. Besides, Octavia has claimed a corner near the back of the store as her own and Bellamy _couldn’t_ take that away from her.

They’d already lost their mother, Bellamy couldn’t let Octavia lose _her spot_ either.

It’s the only piece of their mother, they have left – how did he even think for a second that selling it was ever going to be easy.

He’s not surprised that he kept it.

“Hello,” a voice pulls him from his reverie and he’s looking at a pair of the bluest eyes he’s ever seen. “You okay?”

He curses himself for never actually catching her name despite how often she comes in. He knows the majority of his customer’s names – though he _knows_ most of them personally, but still. There’s Jasper, Monty, Harper. Nathan will come in every so often if only to check up on Bellamy, and Brian is usually with him. And then there’s Zoe but he’s certain she would kick his ass if he actually called her that to her face.

There’s also Maia, and Lexa and Costia, and Roan – and a part of him can’t help but wonder if he fixed that problem he was having with Echo. Bellamy hasn’t seen Roan in a while to ask him, though.

But he still hasn’t figured out the name of the blonde who has caught his attention.

Bellamy shakes the remaining thoughts away. “Yeah, sorry – just thinking…Is this all?” he asks, reaching across the small counter towards the three books she’d stacked there to ring them up.

“Yeah.”

“So you come in here often,” he says as he starts ringing up the books and placing them in a bag. Only after the words are out of his mouth and he can’t take them back does he realize just _how_ it sounds. He tries to blow it off when a shrug. “I’ve noticed.”

“I enjoy the atmosphere,” she eventually responds, as if she too realized how it sounded and Bellamy mentally kicks himself. Money exchanges hands and he places it in the register before ripping off her receipt. “It’s quieter, less crowded than your average Barnes and Noble.”

“Supporting your local independent bookstore and all that?”

“Something like that,” she says with a small smile as Bellamy hands her the bag. And he knows that it sounds crazy because he doesn’t know this girl, but he’d love to see that smile again. The kind that seems so unimportant yet lights up her whole face.

“Have a nice day,” he calls as she heads for the door.

“You too.”

_Damn it, Blake, you still didn’t figure out her name. Yep, total fail._

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re smitten,” he hears his sister teasing him as he continues to stare at the door the blonde woman had left through.

“Shouldn’t you be working on homework?” he retorts, turning his gaze on his little sister.

Octavia shrugs. “It’s done. Besides, I enjoy teasing you and nice try, but you’re not changing the subject.”

“I am not smitten,” he argues. “I don’t even know her name.”

“I’ve only seen _that_ look on your face a handful of times, Bell. Once was with Gina and once is now.” She crosses the short distance towards the counter and before Bellamy realizes it, his sister is standing a few feet in front of him.

“O…”

“Look,” she starts, placing a comforting hand on his upper arm, “I know things went south between you and Gina, and I’m not sure if you broke her heart or if she broke yours, or if you both broke each other’s…But the thing is, you can’t keep yourself closed off all the time.”

“I’m fine and I’d rather not talk about me and Gina,” he sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

He’d like Gina, cared about her even, more than he’d cared about most people – besides his mother and Octavia, of course. But maybe he just couldn’t keep a relationship after his mother died and he was drowning in anger, grief and denial.

He was a master at pushing people away back then. He still is.

He tried and Gina had tried to be there for him after his mother; but sometimes _trying_ just wasn’t enough. And of course, their relationship had crashed and burned. Both parties involved just not knowing what to do anymore, so they called it quits.

_It was for the best,_ he tells himself now – even if he probably still doesn’t believe that. He still calls and checks in with Gina from time to time. He doesn’t think she hates him though he couldn’t blame her if she did.

Their phone calls are always civil and he _does_ still care about her, but he couldn’t pull off a romantic relationship. And he cared too much about Gina to get her hopes up for something that he felt wasn’t going to work out.

Besides, he thinks Gina has already moved on – she sounds happy and he’s happy _for_ her.

But Octavia’s right and he closed off his heart after their mom died.  

“I’m fantastic at pushing people away,” he tells Octavia now, trying to keep the memories in the past. He knows that it’s not going to work, once Octavia gets going, she doesn’t stop until _she’s_ done.

Octavia crosses her arms. “You haven’t pushed Raven away yet.”

“That’s different.”

Him and Raven – they’re not an item, they’ve never dated, _would_ never date. They care about each other; but it’s never turned romantic. Not even after they slept together. They both know what it’s like to be broken and for a night, they were everything you could possibly be to someone.

For a night, neither of them were broken or alone. And that was that. It was one night and they went back to being friends.

“I’m just saying that you never know unless you try. You can’t keep living like this, Bell. I just want to see you happy.”

The thing is, he’s never cared about how happy _he_ was – he’s only ever cared about how happy Octavia is. As long as she was happy, nothing else mattered. Of course, he doesn’t really believe that’s only his job anymore. Bellamy still does what he can to make his sister happy – but he’s not the only one in her life.

Bellamy has learned to like Lincoln – hell, the two of them became fast friends after Octavia brought him home. So maybe he can trust Lincoln to keep his sister happy, and he can try and focus on his own happiness. Or at least try.

And maybe, just maybe, he can learn the blonde’s name and make a friend. Or something more, if he’s lucky and his heart and his brain don’t betray him.

* * *

The next time she comes in, isn’t for another month and a part of Bellamy starts worrying because it’s not like her. But when she _finally_ walks through the door, he breathes out a sigh of relief; because she’s fine.

He also mentally kicks himself because she’s a _stranger_ and he shouldn’t be worried so much over someone he barely knows. But he can’t help himself.

Instead of browsing the shelves like she usually does – she walks straight up to the counter, towards him. When she gets closer he can see just how _sad_ , worn-out and just straight up exhausted she looks.

He bites his tongue on the _are you okay_ that wants to escape his mouth when his eyes meet hers. He can’t say that he’s surprised when she asks if there’s any books he’d recommend for a comfort read because she needs _something._ And a part of him _breaks_ when he hears how broken her voice sounds.

He immediately makes his way down the stacks that he knows so well.

“Are you sure you don’t need a puppy?” he tries to lighten the mood as they walk. “I hear puppies are the cure to all.”

He peeks a glance over his shoulder and sees just the _slightest_ curve of her mouth, but it’s _enough_ and it makes him feel better, for her. “I may have heard that…I already have a dog, though.”

“Then you already have the cure for all sadness – now when you’re done here, go home and hug your furry little companion.”

“I see what you’re trying to do,” she says, glancing around at the stacks they pass. “And I guess what I’m  trying to say is thank you.”

Bellamy runs a hand through his hair. “I just do what I can…since we’re so small, we get the same patrons all the time so I just kind of –“he trails off, not really sure what to say.

“Keep tabs on them?”

“I just try to make sure they’re doing okay, I’ve even heard stories about their kids, their distant cousins. Hell, once I heard about someone’s neighbor having a conversation with their dog about how they would spank the dog if they had to carry them inside.”

“That dog one – wow. Is that a true story?”

Bellamy shrugs. “I don’t know, but that’s what I was told.”

“Another thing you never see at a chain bookstore,” she says as they come to stop in front of the stack Bellamy was looking for. “I’m sure cashiers at Barnes and Noble barely even know if the same person comes in more than once.”

“So as for that book –“Bellamy trails off, letting his eyes fall over the shelves in the stack, looking for what he planning on recommending.

“I would say Harry Potter but I’m totally biased!” Bellamy hears Octavia call from a few stacks over.

“Definitely ignore my sister,” Bellamy tells the blonde.

“Maybe she has a point…considering...I’ve never actually read it.”

“Wait, you’ve _never_ read _Harry Potter?”_

She smiles sheepishly and Bellamy can’t help but wonder if that’s a _blush_ creeping up on her cheeks. “I can’t say that I have. My best friend had all the books when we were kids and tried to get me into them; but I was never really that big of a reader as a child. It’s been more of a recent thing.”

“Well then I would definitely recommend _Harry Potter_ as a comfort read.”

“Don’t get him started about Harry Potter,” he hears Octavia call over the stack, obviously coming closer to the two of them. “Please don’t.”

“Says the woman who literally _dragged me_ to the midnight release of the last four movies and all but made me camp outside for the book release of Deathly Hallows?” he tosses back before turning his gaze back on their regular customer. He’s about to tell her to just ignore his little sister again when he sees one of the most _genuine_ smiles on her face – that he can’t bring himself to.

“I guess that makes it worth the read then.”

“Well then here you go,” he hears Octavia say and then a few moments later _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone_ is being handed over the top of the stack.

“She’s a _little_ crazy,” Bellamy whispers, holding the book out. “If you need anything else, you know where to find me,” he adds, louder as he walks back towards the front of the store.

While he waits for her to finish browsing, he finds himself scribbling around the edge of a bookmark he plucked off a display on the counter.

Before she leaves this time, he tells her. “Whatever it is, I hope it all works out.”

“Thanks,” she responds, with a sad smile.

This time, she leaves with that bookmark slipped into her copy of the Sorcerer’s Stone and Bellamy hopes that what he scribbles makes her smile.

_This may be a bad day or a bad chapter, but it’s not a bad life._

He knows words can only do _so_ much, if anything. But he still tries, because he _knows_ that sadness in her eyes. Knows it all too well. He saw it reflected back at him whenever he looked in the mirror for months after this mother died and he hopes to whatever God is up there, that he’s wrong. And that this girl hasn’t lost someone close to her.

Because he wouldn’t wish that pain, that grief, on anyone.

* * *

He’s pleasantly surprised to find her in the shop two days later, looking happier than she had originally and it makes him smile. He leans on the counter and watches as she hurries through the store, towards the stacks where they talked the other day.

Bellamy’s not surprised when she walks up to the counter with a copy of the Chamber of Secrets _and_ the Prisoner of Azkaban.

“Hooked, I take it?” he teases and he scans the books and places them in a bag.

“Maybe your sister was right,” she replies, with a small smile while she hands him the money for the books. “It was a great pick me up and I’m glad for it…I’m also glad for that note you left on the bookmark.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he says, handing her the bag.

“I’m sure you don’t –“she trails off, obviously wanting to end that sentence with his name but not knowing it.

“Bellamy.”

“I’m Clarke.” After a moment and a sigh. “I do really appreciate the pick me up – the book and the note. Thank you. It’s also not something most people would do – _even_ in an independent bookstore.”

“Well I’m glad to finally be able to place a name to a face,” he tells her. “And like I said, I just do what I can to cheer up customers.”

“They say it’s the small things that mean the most. And you never know how much of a positive impact even the smallest thing will have on a person.

_Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you will look back and realize they were the big things._

He remembers his mother telling him and Octavia that a lot when they were children. A lot of the times, it was accompanied with Octavia chasing him around the yard.

“What was that?”

Bellamy hadn’t noticed he must have spoken the words aloud, until she said something.

“ _Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you will look back and realize they were the big things,”_ he repeats, a little louder this time. “It’s something my mom used to tell me.”

“Well I’d say she’s a smart woman.”

“Yeah…” _She was._

But he doesn’t have it in him to tell Clarke that his mom is dead – that she’s been dead for the past five years. The even if it’s been half a decade, it still hurts like hell sometimes. Besides, he also doesn’t want to bring down what was a somewhat positive conversation with sadness.

Especially if he is right about Clarke losing someone close to her. He doesn’t want to threaten the slightest bit of happiness she seems to have found.

“Enjoy the rest of the series,” he says instead. “And I’m sure I’ll see you again when you return for the next one.”

“I’m sure I’ll be back soon,” Clarke calls as she walks towards the front door.

“I’ll be waiting.”

_And I’ll be waiting for your reactions to all the deaths…_

He can’t say he’s quite ready for _that_ – considering how much Octavia cried when she got through the fourth and fifth books. Of course, he’s sure she’d skin him alive if he ever admitted that out loud.

* * *

The visits are more frequently over the next few weeks and Bellamy’s can’t say that be blames her for flying through the books. He leaves another bookmark or two with notes when she comes back for the Goblet of Fire and The Order of the Phoenix. He knows she might need a pick-me-up after those two. And he’s right, when she comes back the next week for the Half-blood Prince and a new to rant about the last two books.

“What was _that_?” Clarke almost yells out, dropping the sixth book on the counter.

“Pain? Angst?” he says in a nonchalant tone as if that makes it better, casually trying to lighten the mood.

“They can’t just be _dead.”_

Bellamy runs a hand through his hair as he scans the book. “They are, I’m afraid. You’ll probably end up living in denial for a while.”

“Are you saying that from personal experience?”

“As a person who was effected a lot by the later books, maybe,” Bellamy finally admits after he’s rung her up and given over the bag. “Though, I think Octavia is still living in a denial over Sirius.”

In fact, he _knows_ that Octavia still refuses to believe Sirius is dead. She also refuses to believe Lupin and Tonks are dead - he can remember their conversation as if it were yesterday – and honestly it _could_ have been yesterday. Octavia does like to randomly bring it up in conversation whenever something reminds her of Harry Potter.

“Yeah I think I might be too…He deserved to be freed of the crimes he never committed and to live with Harry…But please don’t tell me there’s _more?”_

Bellamy shrugs and mines locking his lips and throwing away the key.

“Oh, come _on_ , Bellamy.”

“I’m sorry but my lips are sealed,” Bellamy sighs and crosses his arms. “Though I will say that shit goes down but it’s a hell of a ride. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll feel so much for all your favorite characters – whoever that may be.”

“Yay,” and he can’t help but _grin_ like an idiot at the sarcasm in her voice.

“Enjoy it,” he calls as she walks out of the shop and he hopes that he didn’t jump the gun with the note he left on a bookmark he slipped into the book.

* * *

A text message two days later, both surprises and doesn’t surprise him. He’s surprised that it _worked_ but not surprised that she took him up on his offer.

_Clarke: So does this mean that you think I’ll choose to rant about whatever happens with you?_

He smirks as he types out his response.

_Well, I’m sure you have your best friend and all but you weren’t opposed to telling me your feelings about certain deaths the other day in the store. So, I took a chance._

After a moment, another text comes through.

_Clarke: Maybe you’re right._

“So, what’s got you smiling?” Bellamy closes out of his messages and glances up at his sister. Octavia’s standing in the middle of the room, looking at him with an arched eyebrow and crossed arms.

“Um,” he starts, mentally cursing himself for stuttering because he knows Octavia will see through it.

“It’s that blonde girl, isn’t it?” she questions, closing the distance between the two of them. “The one who has never read Harry Potter?”

“Maybe…”

“Bell.”

“Okay fine,” he comes clean as she plops down on the couch next to him. “I may have left my number on a bookmark and slipped into the last book she bought.”

“And, what? A few text messages and you’re already smiling like a smitten fool? I mean, more so than you were before?”

“I am _not_ ,” Bellamy retorts, placing his arm on the back of the couch and stealing a glance at his sister.

“Sure, Bell, sure.”

Bellamy leans his head against the back of the couch and lets his eyes close for a moment. “Okay so maybe she intrigues me. And _maybe_ I’m curious as to why she came into the shop that day so distraught.”

“Maybe that’s not for you to know,” Octavia says with a shrug, lifting herself off the couch when the doorbell rings. “And whatever it was, things seem better now.”

That still doesn’t make Bellamy’s curiosity lessen and he swears that one day, it is definitely going to get him in trouble.

He glances back down at his phone when it buzzes with another text message.

_Clarke: okay but seriously, how much is the halfblood prince going to fuck me up_

“What now?” Octavia ponders, coming back into the living room with a box of pizza. “Oh, by the way, I ordered pizza.”

“I can see that, O.”

_That depends…_ he types out. “And thanks for telling me _before_ you did it. I mean, not that I really care, but still.”

Octavia shrugs and sets the box on the coffee table, while his phone buzzes with a reply.

_C: You’re not at all helpful, Bellamy._

  _B: Well, it might be a lot. Read it and find out. Form your own opinion._

The next few messages come in rapid session and Bellamy can’t help but smile. He finds himself smiling a lot because of Clarke and he can’t deny that he loves it.

_C: Great…._

_C: you’ll probably hear about it_

_C: since it’s your fault and all._

_B: I look forward to it_

“She’s on Halfblood Prince now, isn’t she?” Octavia asks, pulling Bellamy’s attention from his phone. He glances up and she’s dropping paper plates onto the coffee table, next to the pizza box.

Bellamy nods. “Yeah… _how--?”_

“I do pay attention to what happens in the store, _sometimes_ , Bell. I don’t just do homework,” Octavia retorts, opening the pizza box and pulling out a slice before dropping it on a plate. “I can just hear the responses now and it’s quite funny…you know, if she tells you how she feels about Fleur afterwards, I’ll like to hear that.”

“We all know how you feel about her, O.” he leans forward and grabs his own dinner and a plate. “And how you’re easily annoyed at people who hate her.”

“Because it’s _ridiculous,”_ Octavia tells him, matter-of-factorly and Bellamy swears she’s channeling an inner, hidden Hermione. “Actually a lot of the character’s hate is ridiculous; but I guess that’s the joy of literature.”

“I’ll be sure to tell you her opinion if it’s the same as yours.”

“You don’t trust me with it, if it’s different?”

“I wouldn’t want you stealing my phone to arguing with her over fictional characters.”

Octavia rolls her eyes. “I am fairly certain a conversation between me and Clarke will not turn into that mess that was Jasper and Monty that one time.”

Bellamy chews and swallows his bite of pizza before laughing. “Yeah those two get really intense with the Harry Potter conversations.”

“That’s an understatement considering what happened with that one…Though I will _always_ side with Monty about Snape and now that I mention it, I can’t help but wonder what Clarke’s opinion on Snape will be in the end.”

“And if that is different than yours, I will _definitely not_ tell you.”

“Yeah,” Octavia agrees, the hand holding her pizza pausing midway to her mouth. “You probably should keep that to yourself if that’s the case. I am fairly passionate about my hatred for him. Of course though, Lincoln sees both sides of those arguments and we get along great.”

“It’s not like Lincoln actually likes Snape though,” Bellamy retorts, taking a bite of pizza. “He’s just the type of person who is amazingly capable of seeing things from everyone’s point of view.”

“That’s what makes a great mediator. And it’s because of him that I’m pretty sure nothing got broken when that heated argument between Monty and Jasper.”

Honesty Bellamy never thought Harry Potter of all things could led to such passionate arguments until now. Hell, he didn’t think anything other than politics could do that.

* * *

He’s not at all surprised when a phone call wakes him up at 2am – well he’s not when his eyes finally adjust and he can stare at the bright screen without cringing and can read Clarke’s name. He quickly accepts the call and brings the device to his ear.

He barely gets out a groggy ‘hello’ before Clarke’s voice blares through the phone.

“What the hell do you _mean_ that Snape kills Dumbledore.”

“Well hello to you too,” he replies, rubbing a hand over his face as he turns over in his bed.

After a moment as it seems the time actually sinks in, Clarke replies. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“It’s fine,” Bellamy tells her. “And before you say anything else. I’m seriously. I don’t mind it.”

Of course, he’s lying – but he’s not complaining about being woke up in the middle of the night if it means he can hear Clarke’s voice. It doesn’t matter that he still has a tough time sleeping – that some nights are completely fine, while some nights, he’s consumed with memories of his mother and he can’t sleep.

No matter how hard he tries. Hell, some nights he goes to his security gig with Lincoln sleep deprived.

_Yeah not going to tell Clarke that._

So he doesn’t and just lets her rambling about the Halfblood Prince. He’s not surprised when she talks about Neville and his parents and how it’s _so not_ fair, how she sounds so protective over Fleur – as if she were talking about a real person, a friend even, instead of a fictional character; how much she strongly dislikes Snape – well more than she did before. He quickly learns through her rambling about Harry Potter that he could listen to her talk all day and never get tired of her voice.

“Things are going to get so much worse from here, aren’t they?” she says towards the end of her rant.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Sometimes I hate that I let you drag me into this.”

“Technically, it was my little sister,” Bellamy retorts, bending his arm at his elbow and placing his hand behind his head. “And you didn’t have to say yes, you know.”

“I’m chalking it up to a moment of weakness.”

A moment of silence passes between the two of them and if Bellamy couldn’t hear her breathing on the other side, he would have thought she had fallen asleep.

“But whatever it was, things got better, right?” he doesn’t know why he says it and he wishes he could take the words back – she obviously wanted something comforting to read to _forget_ about whatever it was that messed her up.

“You could say that, I guess.” He can hear a crinkle and imagines that she’s probably rolling over in her own bed or pulling the covers up. “It’s nothing that I can’t handle and probably nothing you want to hear – the ramblings about a complete stranger’s life.”

Bellamy shrugs and then quickly forgets that she can’t see him. “I wouldn’t say we’re complete strangers, probably more like friendly acquaintances. And I hear they say that somethings it’s easier to tell a stranger what’s bothering you than someone you’re close to.”

“And why’s that? Because they can’t be biased?”

“Well I would assume so.”

Clarke sighs, as if bracing herself for whatever she’s about to admit to him. “My dad died, recently. It was within that month that I stopped going to the shop and I guess – well actually I know that I don’t know what I feel.”

He feels something inside him break and he hates himself for being right. “Anger, sadness, denial. I’m guessing?”

“Yeah…and if I had to guess I would say that you’re speaking from experience.”

Before he knows it, he’s telling Clarke everything – about how his mother died, how he felt afterwards – even his breakup with Gina. How he hid most of his pain to make sure that Octavia was alright because he didn’t care about how he grieved, or even if he was grieving – as long as his sister got through in one piece. How that was probably why it still hurts him now; because he didn’t really deal with it before.

“So, yeah, I know what you’re going through,” he finishes, swallowing against tears that are threatening to fall. He may have told Clarke something he’d never told anyone else, and even if he just met her, he trusts her, but he’d be damn if he’ll let himself cry on the phone with her.

“We’re quite the pair of people, aren’t we?” he hears the heartbreak in her voice, despite her teasing and joking tone. “It seems neither one of us does well dealing with grief.”

“I usually hid my feelings in books,” he admits and that’s exactly what he did when his mother died. When he wasn’t making sure Octavia was okay, he was rereading Harry Potter – trying to get back those happy childhood memories of how he believed he was friends with that boy under the stairs.

He wanted to remind himself that he wasn’t alone, that he wasn’t broken.

“Funny how that’s what I was trying to do after my dad.”

Another moment of silence passes by and he thinks he should do something, to try and cheer her up, so that she doesn’t go to bed wrecked by sadness. So he starts telling her about the first time Octavia had dressed up as Tonks for a Harry Potter theme program their local library was hosting. How she even had the exact wand and everything.

“That’s sounds fun,” Clarke says when Bellamy finally finishes and he can hear the sleepiness in her voice.

“If you’re tired, just go to sleep.”

“I’m not,” she tries to lie but a yawn calls her out.

“How about I just keep talking until you fall asleep?”

“Okay.”

That’s when he just starts rambling about Octavia. If there’s nothing else that has amounted to anything in his life, everything that he’s done for Octavia has. He’s not sure how long he talks, but he talks until he falls asleep – whether that’s before or after Clarke – he doesn’t know.

* * *

When Clarke finally finishes Deathly Hallows almost four days later, the two of them plan to go out for lunch. Clarke recommends one of her favorite dinners and of course, Bellamy agrees, interested to try something new and happy to let Clarke pick wherever she wants to go.

“You were right,” Clarke says when the waitress comes out with the water they ordered and tells them their food will be out in a few minutes.

“Are you in denial?”

“Over Remus and Tonks? And Fred and Colin? And literally _everyone?_ ” Clarke says, purposing pausing after every death mentioned. “Yes, yes I am...I know a war happened and like, people die in a war, but it’s just so unfair.”

They continue their discussion of Harry Potter through their meal and Clarke mostly continues her ranting over how Remus and Tonks deserved better, and how it’s not fair that Andromeda literally lost her entire family except for her grandson.

It’s easy conversation, between him and Clarke, whether they’re talking about fictional characters or their actual lives. It’s nice and he enjoys it more than he cares to admit, because if he’s being honest with himself – it also scares the hell out of him. Especially when he thinks that at any moment, he can fuck it all up.

He’s good about that.

And he can’t say he’s Religious, but he prays to whatever God may be listening that he doesn’t fuck this up.

“So what do you do?” Bellamy asks, when they fall into a silence after they’ve exhausted most discussion about Harry Potter for the time being.

“Just trying to get into med school,” Clarke responds, reaching for a napkin.

Well, Bellamy would be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued. “Med school, huh? That seems great but also like a lot of work.”

Clarke shrugs and leans back against the booth. “It is, but it’s something I’ve learned I’m good at. And if I can help people in the long run, all the sleepless nights and drowning in notecards will definitely be worth it.”

“I’m sure it will,” Bellamy tells her, reaching for a handful of the fries he has left. “And it’s totally honorable to want to help me.”

“Hopefully I can help people and make up for what I couldn’t do,” she trails off, almost as if he doesn’t want her to hear the end of the sentence, but he does.

“You know, what happened to your dad, that’s not your fault,” Bellamy says, knowing exactly where her mind went. Knowing exactly how she feels, since he’s been there himself. “You said it was natural causes, right?”

Clarke nods. “The paramedics said it was a heart attack…but still I can’t help but think that _maybe_ if I had found him sooner, things could have turned out differently.”

“You can’t beat yourself up over the what if’s, Clarke. Trust me, it’s not going to get you anywhere, except the opposite direction you want to go.”

“I know, but I still can’t shake the feeling,” Clarke sighs and tucks a lose strand of hair that fell out of her braid behind her eye. “And maybe being able to help people, maybe it will feel the void, make me feel useful anyway.”

“It could,” Bellamy supplies. “Like I said, it’s honorable; but I should be honest with you. That regret you feel – it’ll never go away.”

“I’ve figured as much.”

“ _But_ it gets easier to live with,” Bellamy adds quickly. “You’ll learn what does and doesn’t work for you; you’ll learn how to best deal with your grief and regret.”

“Thank you,” Clarke says as they get up from the table after paying their bill. “For everything.”

“I didn’t really do much.”

Clarke closes the short distance between them as they walk through the door and lightly slaps his arm. “You’ve done _so much_ , Bellamy. And even your sister helped when she recommended that book. For a few weeks, I wasn’t alone, I didn’t feel broken, lost or confused. I was preoccupied and wasn’t drowning in grief and that’s because of _you._ You gave me an outlet, and you even listened to me ramble about a book series. And you stayed up talking with me to keep my mind off it all.”

“Okay, so _maybe_ I had a hand in it,” Bellamy admits as they start walking down the sidewalk with no real destination in mind. “I’m just glad to have been there.”

“And you also knew what I was going through, because you’d been there,” Clarke continues to explain as they walk. “I mean my best friend was there and I’m grateful for him too, but he didn’t understand. Not completely, anyway.”

“Well, I’m glad to have been whatever help I could have been.”

“You know, we can keep this up,” Clarke suggests, as they shuffle through a random crowd of people.

“The lunches?” Bellamy says, rising an eyebrow.

“Us hanging out doesn’t have to stop just because I’ve finished the books,” Clarke tells him, coming to a stop and reaching to push the button to walk across the street. “I know I’ll still end up at the shop, so we’ll still see each other anyway; but you have my number and these few weeks have been lovely.”

“Clarke Griffin, is this you trying to ask me out on a date?” Bellamy teases with a smirk.

Clarke playfully rolls her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bellamy answers her with a smile and a step forward as the walking person appears on the sign telling them it’s safe to walk. Over the last few weeks, they’ve easily fallen into a comfortable banter – something he’s never had with another woman that wasn’t his sister.

He likes it and damn it if Octavia was right and he likes _her._

“I’m sure, Griffin. But the answer is yes.”

_For you, it’s always going to be yes._

 

**Author's Note:**

> basically i've had this idea for almost a year after watching a grey's episode where the patient met her husband in a bookshop and he was too afraid to ask her on a date so he wrote his number on a bookmark


End file.
